


Don't kiss me, I'm sick

by scalira



Series: The Losers Club [1]
Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Fluff, Halloween, Lesbian Beverly Marsh, M/M, they're like 17 in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-23 04:25:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12498720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scalira/pseuds/scalira
Summary: Stan leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. He doesn't miss the way Bill’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows.“What if I wanted to see the delivery boy?” He asks. “He’s cute.”Bill’s cheeks flush. Stan has to bite his lip in order not to smile.“N-not as cute as m-me, though,” Bill tries. His stutter betrays how nervous he suddenly is. It always does.





	Don't kiss me, I'm sick

**Author's Note:**

> Angsty Stenrbough makes me sad so here's some mindless fluff. It's what we deserve!

Stanley Uris wouldn’t necessarily call himself dramatic, though basically all his friends would have to disagree.

Richie’s favorite way to describe him is Stan the Drama Man, closely followed by King of being Dramatic and Dramatiqué (Richie refers to that one as Stan’s possible drag name). Most of the others agree with Richie, except Bill. He might  _ secretly _ think Stan is a big ol’ drama queen, but if he does, he doesn’t show it. 

So, when Stan gets a mild sore throat and immediately cancels all his plans on Halloween just in case he’s coming down with throat cancer, Bill is the only one who doesn’t roll his eyes at him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go?” Bill asks him on his doorstep, the other losers waiting impatiently behind him. Stan glances over Bill’s shoulder, noticing how Richie is provoking Eddie and Eddie being seconds away from hitting him on the head with his lightsaber. 

“I’m sure,” he assures Bill. “You should really get going now, before Eddie murders Richie and puts his corpse in someone’s front yard as a Halloween decoration.”

Bill turns around and groans, almost like an annoyed dad would. It brings a little smile to Stan’s lips.

“Okay. I promise we won’t have too much fun without you,” he says once he’s turned back around to look at Stan.

Stan rolls his eyes.

“Sure you won’t.”

Bill offers him a bright smile and taps his fingers against Stan’s, something they’ve been doing since kindergarten. Stan repeats the action before taking a step back into his warm house.

“Seriously, go,” he insists. “Don’t let Richie drink too much alcohol.”

“Why do you ruin good things?” Richie shouts from Stan’s front lawn. Stan flips him off.

“Get off my property, asshole!” He yells at him. Richie lifts his hands to form a little heart in response.

Bill sighs deeply and walks towards Richie, taking him by the arm to drag him away. The sight of Bill dressed as the Terminator pulling Richie, dressed as princess Leia, away from his house is almost enough to instantly make Stan feel better.

He watches his friends mount their bikes and then closes the door, making his way to the living room to bury himself in a mountain of blankets and drown himself in a shit load of tea.

 

***

 

The party is… well, it’s a party.

Josh’s house is already packed when the losers arrive. There are girls dancing on the dinner table, costumes so short Bill catches glimpses of their buttcheeks whenever they roll their hips. More people are dancing and talking in the living room, passing cigarettes back and forth and sipping from red solo cups. The entire house smells like a mixture of cigarettes, weed, stale beer and sweat.

“This is gonna be so much  _ fun _ ,” Eddie deadpans, bending his body away from a drunk girl trying to cling onto him. Richie wordlessly pushes her away and gives her a stern look.

“Come on, Eddie Spaghetti. Lighten up a bit, will you?” He asks once the girl is out of their orbit.

“Don’t call me that.”

Richie grins at him and throws an arm around his shoulders. Eddie would’ve shaken it off if it were anyone else, including any of the losers, but with Richie he just gives him a mild shove.

“Anyone want a drink?” Ben offers. He and Mike are already making their way to the kitchen.

“Bring me a beer, Benny boy,” Richie says. Eddie asks for some soda and Bill declines the offer all together.

They push their way to a less crowded area in the living room and plop onto the couch, sitting so closely together they’re touching from shoulder to ankle. Eddie has to partly sit on Richie’s lap, which he pretends to hate while Richie takes the opportunity to wrap both his arms around Eddie’s waist and pull him closer. Bill is positioned between Bev and Richie, briefly thinking about how uncomfortable Stan would be sitting like this. Bill’s mind flashes back to any of their sleepovers, where Stan would only ever curl up against Bill’s side.

“I’m gonna try to get laid tonight,” Beverly announces.

“Oh, trying to find the John Bender to your Claire Standish?” Richie replies, referring to Beverly’s costume.

“You know damn well I don’t swing that way,” Bev says, slightly offended.

“Do you know any girls who swing your way?” Bill asks.

“A couple. There are more lesbians out there than you think, Billothy.”

“That sounds so ominous,” Eddie says.

Richie puts on a reporter voice, “ten more girls have gone missing during the lesbian frenzy. We beg everyone to stay inside and for the love of god,  _ do not _ engage. There are more lesbians out there than any of us think.”

“A lesbian frenzy is the only way I wanna leave this world,” Beverly says.

“I wanna leave this world during a zombie apocalypse,” Richie says.

“ _ Why _ ?” Eddie asks, appalled. “That sounds disgusting.”

Richie pulls Eddie even closer to him and bites his neck. Eddie squirms, but not enough to free himself.

“What’s disgusting about cool zombies biting the flesh off your neck?” Richie wonders, sounding genuinely surprised.

Eddie elbows him in the ribs, finally jumping off Richie’s lap.

“Everything! You’re so weird, Richie.”

Richie grins and stands too, taking Eddie’s hand.

“Thanks. Come on, Mike and Ben seem to have lost their way back, let's go find them.”

Bev and Bill watch them go, and then Beverly sinks further into the couch.

“They’re definitely sneaking away to go make out,” she states.

Bill chuckles and leans back into the couch too.

“Probably,” he says. Those two act as if nobody knows they’re totally into each other, but they’re  _ so  _ obvious about it. “Ben and Mike too, let’s be real.”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Beverly laughs. “‘Getting drinks’, yeah, right.”

She sighs and puts her head on Bill’s shoulder. “What about you, babe?”

“What about me, darling?”

Beverly pokes him in the ribs.

“You know what I mean, Denbrough. Why are you here when you could be taking care of your sick loverboy?”

Bill hates how he can feel his cheeks flush.

“He’s not my loverboy.”

“ _ Yet _ ,” Bev adds.

“No,  _ period _ , Beverly. We’re not together.”

“ _ Yet _ !”

“Beverly, I swear to God if you say ‘yet’ one more time -”

Beverly laughs and nudges Bill with her shoulder. “Fine, Mr. Grumpy pants. But you know what I mean. You have a massive crush on him. And taking care of him when he isn't feeling well would be the perfect opportunity to swoop him off his feet, and yet you’re at this lame Halloween party.”

“Who says Stan wants me around when he’s sick? You know how he gets.”

“Yeah,” Bev nods, “our residential drama king. But he never complains about your presence like he does about ours when he isn’t feeling well.”

“I guess,” Bill shrugs.

“Oh my god, are you actually that blind?”

Beverly groans. She gets up and jabs a finger in Bill’s direction, putting on her Mom Frown. “I’m really gonna have to spell this out for you, don't I? You’re the only one Stan can stand to be around when he’s sick. He has never cuddled up to any of us the way he cuddles up to you on movie nights. Mr. Uris is currently sick and home alone, and the only person he enjoys spending time with when he gets like that is you. So fucking go over to his place, take care of him, make him some fucking soup or whatever and live happily ever after.”

Bill thinks about it for a second. What’s the worst that could happen? Even if Bill doesn't come clean about his feelings, they could still just hang out together. Alone. Watch some movies, share a blanket… Honestly, even just the prospect of cuddling with Stan sounds double as appealing as staying at this party.

“Don’t let Richie eat too much candy. He gets so hyper he doesn't sleep all night,” he tells Beverly as he gets up. Bev grins and gives him a high five.

“No problem, captain! I’ll look after him like he’s my son.”

Bill nods and says goodbye, craning his neck to look for the others. When he can’t find them, he just makes his way back to the front door.

***

The last thing Stan is expecting when he answers the door is Bill Denbrough in full Terminator costume, holding a pizza in his hands and wearing the  _ Derry Pizza Delivery _ hat.

“Hi,” he greets, as if this isn't the weirdest thing Stan has seen all night.

“Uh, hi,” Stan replies. “What are you doing here? And why are you holding a pizza?”

“I caught up with the delivery boy on his way here and paid for the pizza so I could bring it to you.”

Stan leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. He doesn't miss the way Bill’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows.

“What if I wanted to see the delivery boy?” He asks. “He’s cute.”

Bill’s cheeks flush. Stan has to bite his lip in order not to smile.

“N-not as cute as m-me, though,” Bill tries. His stutter betrays how nervous he suddenly is. It always does.

Stan takes his sweet time moving his eyes over Bill’s body, as if he doesn't already check him out whenever he’s not looking. He has to admit the all-black outfit looks really good on him.

“I suppose,” he eventually says, when his eyes reach Bill’s now bright red face. Then he takes a step back and gestures inside. “Come on, then. I’m hungry.”

Bill grins and steps inside, his arm brushing against Stan’s chest as he passes him. Stan’s heart clenches painfully at the contact, but he ignores it.  _ Not now _ .

“So,” Bill says once he’s in the living room, “why order pizza when you’re sick? Shouldn't you be eating soup or something?”

Stan makes a face and takes the pizza from Bill.

“You know I don't like soup.”

Bill rolls his eyes.

“Right,” he says, taking the box back from Stan to put it on the coffee table. “You think it’s unnatural.”

“Food is supposed to be chewed!”

Bill shakes his head and laughs lightly.

“You’re ridiculous, Stan.”

Stan nudges him. “Shut up, dick.”

“Okay, fine. Let's just eat your greasy pizza and watch bad horror movies on TV.”

“That’s the best thing you’ve said all night,” Stan grins. He pulls Bill down onto the couch and pulls up his knees, settling against Bill’s side. He sits like that for approximately five seconds before he groans and sits back up.

“Your Terminator jacket is uncomfortable,” he complains. “Take it off.”

“Well, damn, aren’t you demanding tonight,” Bill says. He slips out of his leather jacket, revealing the black sweater he’s wearing underneath. Stan is delighted with this development; sweaters are a lot more comfortable to snuggle up to than leather jackets.

“That’s cheating,” he says, pointing at the sweater as if he cares even one bit about Bill not following the strict Terminator costume. “I’m sure Arnold never wore a  _ sweater _ underneath his badass leather jacket.”

“Shut up, Stan. It’s freezing outside.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s just a bit chilly.”

Bill shoves him away from him. “Says the person who stayed in because he had a bit of a sore throat!”

“I might be  _ dying,  _ William! Be nice to me.”

Bill snorts loudly. Stan chuckles too, moving back to his position against Bill’s side.

“Okay, I might be a bit dramatic,” he admits. “Maybe I’m not terminally ill. Maybe I just have a cold.”

“I’m glad you came to that conclusion all by yourself.”

Stan looks up to Bill. “If you already knew I was barely even ill, why did you come to check up on me anyway?”

Bill’s cheeks flush again. Stan secretly finds him extremely adorable when he blushes, but of course he would rather die than to admit that out loud.

“Because I’m a good friend who doesn’t want his friends to be all alone on Halloween.”

“It’s  _ Halloween _ , not some important holiday like Christmas or New Years. I would’ve been fine.”

“I can leave again,” Bill suggests, already moving to stand. Stan grabs into his sweater and pulls him back.

“No, you’re already here now. Might as well keep me company.”

“That’s what I thought,” Bill says, a bit too happy with himself as he settles back onto the couch. He kicks off his shoes, enduring Stan’s annoyed groan about how messily he kicks them away, and gets comfortable, wrapping an arm around Stan’s shoulders.

Stan enjoys cuddling with Bill. Like, he  _ really _ enjoys it. He’s been getting comfortable with Bill’s touch since they were three, and now he’s one of the only people Stan can stand to be touched by. Even his parents mostly get short semi-hugs. Richie is the only other person he allows to touch him, but never to the same extend as Bill. Richie enjoys kissing his friends on the cheek or forehead whenever they say goodbye after a day of hanging out, which is also something Stan had to work up to. He can now comfortably let himself be kissed by Richie without flinching, but whenever he tries hugging him for more than a few seconds, Stan starts squirming.

Not with Bill, though. It’s been a very long time since he last squirmed underneath his touch - Stan can’t even remember the last time touching Bill had made him uncomfortable. It just feels so  _ natural _ : knocking their knees together when they sit together in class; tapping against Bill’s fingers with his own; pressing together from shoulder to knee when watching movies. Stan even occasionally puts a hand on Bill’s thigh in class when he gets called on to speak and he gets his nervous stutter.

In fact, Stan has caught himself thinking about touching Bill more and more lately. And more often than not, his mind wanders to the less…  _ innocent _ form of touching. Whenever he can’t sleep, he finds himself imagining Bill by his side, warm hands moving over his ribs and side. He thinks about tracing Bill’s jaw with his fingers, over his cheek to his lips. He wonders what it would feel like to be pressed against Bill with less layers between them. Not  _ naked _ , per se, but maybe shirtless. Being able to feel Bill’s heart beat against his. Stan wonders if their hearts would beat in sync with each other. If their lips would slot together perfectly, or if they would bump noses and laugh about how clumsy and inexperienced they are.

That is, if Bill is inexperienced at all. He never really talks about his love life, but Stan knows he’s kissed some girls behind the bleachers at school. Maybe his hands have already slid over ribs and sides. Maybe someone already traced the path from Bill’s jaw to his lips. Maybe there’s nothing left for Stan to explore. To discover. Maybe all secrets of Bill’s body have been revealed to someone else already. 

Stan doesn’t realize he’s completely tensed up until Bill’s fingers stop tangling themselves in his curls. He hadn’t even realized Bill was stroking his hair, so used to the touch he sometimes didn’t even register it anymore.

“Everything alright?” Bill asks. His chest vibrates against Stan’s ear. “You’re not gonna throw up, right?”

Stan pushes himself up to look at Bill.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “No, I was just… uh - thinking.”

Bill raises his eyebrows. “About what?”

Now it’s Stan’s turn to turn red. Bill raises his eyebrows even higher, sitting up straight too. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes. Damn it, Stan doesn’t blush easily. Bill must know something is up.

“Stan, were you thinking…  _ filthy thoughts _ ?” Bill gasps, acting scandalized. Stan hits him.

“No, asshole! Your presence sucks every ounce of possible horniness I might possess right out of my body.”

Bill wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“I could suck something else out of y- ” Stan hits him with a pillow before he can finish that sentence, pressing it against Bill’s face in a minor attempt to suffocate him. 

“That’s such a Richie thing to say,” he complains, hitting Bill with the pillow again. “You really need to stop hanging out with him so much. He’s rubbing off on you.”

Bill tries to snatch the pillow away.

“You like it,” he says, struggling to take the pillow from Stan. Stan knows Bill is stronger and will eventually get the upper hand in this, but he isn’t going down without a fight. Stan shifts on the couch until he somehow manages to straddle Bill, yanking the pillow out of his hands to hit him over the head with it. Bill makes a small  _ oof _ sound and shoots out his hands to grab Stan’s wrists.

“Okay, okay, truce!” He laughs. Stan smiles victoriously and drops the pillow, but doesn’t make a move to get off Bill’s lap. Bill doesn’t seem to mind either.

He lets go off Stan’s wrists and lets his hands rest on Stan’s sides instead. Stan is absolutely  _ not _ painfully aware of Bill’s thumbs resting on his exposed hipbone, his sweater having ridden up in their struggle.

“Seriously though, what got you so distracted earlier?” Bill asks. The teasing tone has disappeared from his voice.

“I was just… I don’t know. I was just thinking about... kissing, I guess,” Stan confesses. Damn it, Bill Denbrough is like his own personal polygraph. It’s impossible not to tell him the truth when he’s staring at him with those big, bright eyes.

“Oh. That’s a weird topic to think about on Halloween.”

Stan rolls his eyes, trying to hide his embarrassment behind feigned annoyance.

“Sorry I wasn’t thinking about torture techniques on this Holy Night of Horrors,” he says sarcastically. Bill squeezes his sides in response and Stan squirms, but not because he doesn’t like the touch. If anything, he squirms because he likes it a bit too much.

“Why were you thinking about kissing, then?” Bill pries. Jesus, the guy really can’t let it rest. As if Stan isn’t already embarrassed enough.

“I was just wondering... What it feels like. I don’t know, it’s stupid. Don’t tell anyone or I’ll strangle you in your sleep.”

Bill decides to ignore the last part of Stan’s confession and focus on the first part instead.

“You never kissed anyone before?” He asks. Stan tries to find the judgement or amusement in his voice, but he can’t find any.

“No. You know stuff like that grosses me out.”

Bill’s hands settle more firmly on Stan’s side as he swallows thickly. His ears turn red.

“N-not with me, th-though,” he says softly.

“No,” Stan smiles, feeling a blush of his own set high on his cheeks, “not with you.”

Bill moves his hands over Stan’s back and up his shoulders, lingering on his jaw. He grazes his fingertips over Stan’s jawline, thumbs moving up to press gently against his cheeks. Stan stares at him and leans into the touch without really meaning to. His heart is racing so fast he’s sure Bill can feel it.

Bill cranes his neck and brings Stan’s face closer, slow enough for Stan to tap out if he doesn’t want to do this. Stan’s mind is going a hundred miles a minute, trying to register what’s happening, trying to react to it, but the only thing he manages to do is bring up his hand and hold up a finger.

“Don’t kiss me, I’m sick,” he tells Bill, though he  _ really wants him to fucking kiss him. _

Bill blinks at him, then smiles.

“Is that the only reason you don’t want me to kiss you?” He asks.

Stan chews his lip. Bill’s eyes automatically dart to his mouth.

“Yes,” Stan breathes.

Bill takes away one hand from Stan’s face, leaving a cold imprint on Stan’s skin. He takes Stan’s held up hand instead and intertwines their fingers.

“What if I don’t care about getting sick?”

Stan makes a face.

“You should. It’s not fun.”

Bill shrugs, gently tugging at Stan’s hand.

“I wouldn’t have to take that Geography test on Monday,” he reasons. “And you could skip school to come over to my place and cuddle.”

“Are you encouraging me to miss out on my vital education?”

“If that means I get to kiss you, then yeah. Fuck school.”

Stan chuckles. He looks from Bill to their intertwined fingers and back, pressing harder into the touch of the hand still resting on his cheek. A quiet permission.

Bill gets it. His smile turns shy when he pushes himself up just enough to reach Stan’s lips, lingering for a second. Stan is afraid to move, scared that he’ll ruin it somehow, but allows himself to let his eyes travel over Bill’s face. From his nose to his parted lips up to his eyes. He’d never noticed the brown flecks in his eyes until now.

Bill’s breath tickles Stan’s cheeks. It’s something else Stan can only stand when it’s Bill; people noticeably breathing on him. He usually finds it disgusting to feel someone else’s breath on his skin, but with Bill, all he feels is excitement. 

Stan’s eyes flutter shut when he finally feels Bill’s soft lips on his own. There’s some pressure against his mouth, an unfamiliar but not necessarily bad feeling. Bill moves his lips against Stan’s, obviously more experienced than Stan, and slides his hand from Stan’s cheek to his hair.

Stan is normally very calculated about everything he does. His mind is constantly working overtime to think through everything he does; each step he takes and each movement he makes is thoroughly thought out. He always thought kissing would be the same as any of his other actions, but his brain seems to completely  _ shut down _ with Bill’s lips on his. For a few moments, Stan forgets how to think and just lets Bill lead him wherever he wants to go.

Bill skillfully pries open Stan’s mouth and slips in his tongue. Stan jerks back for a brief moment at the new sensation and Bill immediately pulls back, looking at him with concern. Stan offers him a sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “With tongue feels kind of weird.”

Bill chuckles.

“Yeah, I didn’t like it at first either. It takes time to get used to.”

Stan hums, sliding his hands over Bill’s arms to his chest and tugging at his sweater to bring him to his lips again.

“I think I need some more practice,” he murmurs against his mouth.

Bill huffs a laugh.

“I think so too,” he says, and then he kisses him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to the Stenbros on twitter!


End file.
